Chapter 4
Beatryce found Ishmyel in his quarters, the first place she’d looked for him. She hadn’t expected him to be there. She thought he’d be sitting at her mother’s bedside. Or, at the very minimum, out searching for a healer.
She’d only come to his quarters instead of her mother’s quarters because she’d been reluctant to discover that her mother was no better. Or had grown worse.
The image of her mother in that bed, pale and unconscious, the hilt jutting from her back, lay heavy on Beatryce’s heart. Without further knowledge of her mother’s condition, Bea could at least hope Anyka had improved.
It felt cowardly but Beatryce could only bear so much.
Ishmyel stepped aside to let her in. “Your highness. I hadn’t expected to see you so soon. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She waited until he’d closed the door behind her. She didn’t want to be here any longer than she had to. “I needed to talk to you.”
“Please, come in and sit. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Cocoa? Brandy?”
Beatryce knew her mother’s fondness for brandy, but she’d never been a drinker. Finding out her grandparents had been murdered with poisoned wine had put her off the stuff as soon as she was old enough to understand. “No, nothing, I’m fine.”
She sat on his couch, instantly realizing she should have taken the large chair by the fire. She was queen, after all. The best seat was hers by royal right. Too late now. She lifted her chin, trying to look imperious.
He settled into the large chair. His gaze immediately went to her hand. “Have you had that looked at?”
She’d wrapped it in a strip of muslin. Now she saw that blood had leaked through. “It’s fine.”
“You should get it looked at. We cannot afford for you to be—”
“I said it’s fine.”
His expression said he didn’t believe that for one moment, but he moved on. “What did you want to discuss?”
“The search for a healer. How is it going? Has anyone been found?”
“Not yet, but the search is ongoing.”
“What’s taking so long? My mother’s life is at stake.”
“I understand, your highness, but it’s not as if we can just tell the kingdom your mother has been gravely wounded and we’re in dire need of an exceptional healer to care for her.”
His words staggered her. “Why not?”
“Because then they would all know she is no longer on the throne.”
“Uncle, I have already been crowned queen.”
“Yes, but that hasn’t been made public.”
“Then do it.” She shook her head, exasperated. “Why are you stalling?”
He sat without speaking, shifting position as if buying time to find an answer. “Once we announce you’ve been coronated, we must also be prepared to explain why.”
“Yes, and?”
“And you are untried, your highness. There are those around us who might see you as…as…”
Her patience grew thin. “Just say it.”
“An easy target. Your mother was not known for—”
“Was? My mother is still alive.” Barely, Beatryce knew, but she was not about to give up hope.
“My apologies, your highness. Your mother is not known for tolerating any aggression toward Malveaux. The same cannot be said of you. No one knows what sort of queen you might be and because of that, there are some who might believe the time is ripe to test you.”
“Do you mean Summerton?”
“Perhaps, but there are the kingdoms to the west of us.”
“You mean Hanarune?” She frowned. “Why would a kingdom we’ve never had diplomatic relations with suddenly come against us?
We have no treaty with them, but we have no business with them either.
Hanarune has no treaty or business with anyone.
They are an insular kingdom. And they’re practically on the other side of the world.
Farther from us than Stoneholde.” She might not know much about politics, but she’d paid attention in school.
The Hana were spirit-folk, which to anyone who wasn’t Hana meant they were a kind of light elemental. Deeply connected with the earth, water, and sky.
Much like the trolls in that regard, but where the trolls were known for their ferocious warriors and brutal destruction, the Hana were benevolent beings, known for their reverence of nature and a deep desire to keep themselves apart.
Their silks were incomparable to those produced anywhere else and nearly impossible to acquire. It was rumored that Leda had a gown of Hana silk, a rare gift sent on the occasion of her wedding, but the gown hadn’t been seen in Beatryce’s lifetime.
Which reminded Bea of the real reason she had come to see Ishmyel, although she wasn’t ready to delve into what he knew about other gifts from Leda yet. “The Hana are no threat.”
“You seem very sure of that.”
“They are no threat to anyone. They have so little interaction with any kingdom outside themselves that they aren’t a part of this realm.” She shook her head. “In order to best help my mother, we must make public what has happened. Perhaps not the details.”
She did not want the citizens of Malveaux to know the dagger that had pierced her mother’s body had come from Bea’s own hand.
Ishmyel nodded thoughtfully. “You are ready to fully embrace the crown then?”
“Of course. There is no other choice. Not when my mother’s life hangs in the balance. Besides that, no one, Summerton included, will come against us when we have the trolls on our side.”
He pursed his lips. “The trolls are a mighty force, that much is certain. But your marriage has not even reached the planning stages. That alliance, while reasonably secure, could be stronger.”
She glared at him. “Do you honestly think a wedding while my mother is fighting for her life would be a wise idea? Uncle, you cannot be serious.”
He nodded. “Of course, you’re right.”
Was he truly suggesting the spectacle of a royal wedding while her mother might pass into the Beyond at any moment? Was he trying to make Bea look bad in the eyes of the people? Or was he just not thinking?
“Arrange a proclamation. Say that Mother was injured trying to negotiate peace with Summerton. Say that I have been made regent.” None of that was exactly the truth, but it would do. “And put out the call for a healer.”
“An announcement like that will have every conjurer, midwife, and herbalist at our doors.”
“And you don’t have the time to interview them?” She was beginning to get genuinely angry. Without thinking, she clenched her hands, causing a spike of pain from her injured one, which in turn made her angrier. “What’s more important than finding a healer and a strong magician to replace Nazyr?”
“Your highness—”
“No, Uncle.” She reminded herself she was queen. He had to do as she said. “No excuses. No more talk. Please, just find someone who can help her.”
He took a breath, his mouth bent in a partial frown. “As you wish. I will make it my number one priority.”
“Good. Thank you. I have one more question. Where are the other boxes my grandmother left for me?”
He pulled back slightly, his frown deepening. “I don’t know what boxes those might be. She gave me one. That was it.”
Bea sighed, partially in frustration, partially because that was exactly as she’d feared. Leda had never managed to produce the other boxes she’d mentioned because she’d died too soon. A dark feeling swept over Bea, a wash of sadness. And a small amount of resentment.
“You might speak to her lady’s maid. She is old, but I believe she still lives in the village.”
Hope took hold in Beatryce. “What’s her name?”
Ishmyel squinted as if trying to recall. “Vespera…Sablewood. I believe that’s correct. Wyett might be able to locate her for you.”
She nodded, thinking out loud. “Mother made him her councilor.”
“So she did.” He smiled tightly.
Beatryce got to her feet, forcing Ishmyel up as well. She needed to find Vespera as soon as possible. And take something for pain. The ache in her hand was getting harder to ignore. “I’ll expect a copy of that proclamation before dinner. I want to read it before it’s released.”
His brows arched in surprise. “I will bring it to you personally.”
“No. That would be a waste of your time. You should be searching for the help we need. Send it by messenger.” She turned without waiting for him to see her out. She had to find Wyett. She couldn’t do this all by herself and Ishmyel had been less helpful than she’d expected.
More than ever, she again wished she had not shunned her magical training. If her grandmother had truly left her magic books and potions behind, Beatryce had to get to them.
They might be the only chance her mother had. And if this Vespera could give Bea some insight into how to find them, or at least tell her what that key opened, Bea would reward her richly.
There was no price too high to save her mother.
Nor to erase the terrible error Beatryce had made by throwing that dagger.
She swallowed as she hastened her steps on her way to her mother’s apartment. Maybe she would arrive to find her mother had awoken.
Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
But as she approached the door and saw Trog, her mother’s bodyguard, she knew nothing had changed. The troll wasn’t especially expressive, but the slump of his shoulders told her everything she needed to know.
Anyka was no better.